Download Margaret Atwood's Alternative Spaces: “Wilderness Tips” and “Death

Margaret Atwood’s Alternative Spaces:
“Wilderness Tips” and “Death by Landscape”
Kristina Aurylaite
Bergen University
&Vytautas Magnus University
Norway / Lithuania
Margaret Atwood’s Alternative Spaces:
“Wilderness Tips” and “Death by Landscape”
Post-colonial writing abounds with spatial images and references such as
maps and boundaries, displacement and homecoming. Colonial and postcolonial geographies have been referred to as politicised and ideologised,
violent and erasing, restrictive and exclusionary, imaginative, overlapping
and discrete. Bearing in mind Edward Said’s famous proposition in
Orientalism, that “geography is produced out of the relationships between
people” (Said, 273), it can be argued that space and place are also involved
in colonial interactions and undergo various changes due to them.
The white settler country, such as the USA, Canada and Australia, represents
an example of a great spatial transformation, because it is formed out of the
encounters between distinct peoples, cultures and mentalities, which result
in the technologically less advanced indigenous people of the newly settled
territories relatively quickly becoming a minority. Furthermore, the process
involves the erasure both of the indigenous spatial structure and their
foundation story, as well as the superimposition of the tabula rasa rhetoric,
which “cleans up” the territory for colonial expansion and justifies the
settlement. This inevitably entails a neat spatial positioning of the dominant
white and the inferiorized Native so that overlapping could be avoided.
Consequently, the rigid division between the civilized urban and the wild
emerges, and, eventually, between the city and the reserve. Resulting from
the colonial appropriation of the indigenous territories of a country such as
Canada-to-be, this division has persistently pervaded both (settler) white
and indigenous writing ever since.
The postcolonial “project” for the Native people has quite expectedly been
to dismantle ideologically loaded colonial representations of the settler space
as a tabula rasa by providing it with (pre)history, with a story that reaches
before the time of colonization. Helen Gilbert and Joanne Tompkins similarly
state in their thematic survey of post-colonial drama that:
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Place and Memory in Canada: Global Perspectives
Lieu et Mémoire au Canada: Perspectives Globales
Both settler and indigenous playwrights engage, albeit often in quite
different ways, with the spatial aspects of imperialism. In many cases,
dramatized images of the landscape reveal how space has been
constructed by imperial history and, concomitantly, how it might be
deconstructed and reorganized according to the imperatives of various
colonized groups (Gilbert et al., 145).
This juxtaposition between the imperial construction of space and its
indigenous reconstruction speaks of an inevitable collision between two
alternative versions of the foundational story of a colonial space, especially
when this issue is taken up by Native writes. Mieke Bål, with reference to
postcolonial discourse, similarly speaks of undoing colonial foundations:
[…] going back to a time when the space was a different kind of place
is a way of countering the effects of the colonizing acts of focalization
that can be called ‘mapping’. Mastering, looking from above, dividing
up and controlling is an approach to space that ignores time as well as
the density of space’s lived-in quality. In contrast to such ways of seeing
space, providing a landscape with a history is a way of spatializing
memory that undoes the later killing of the space (Bål, 48).
The urge of white Canadians of “settler origin” is understandably different.
It is them who originally created this particular representation of the
wilderness as a binary opposite to urbanity, and endowed it with the
characteristics of immense power and monstrosity as well as the potential to
engulf and evoke awe. This representation, vivid examples of which are
provided by the canonical Group of Seven or even Emily Carr’s paintings,
has haunted white Canadian art and literature for a long time and was – or
indeed has been – a way of asserting a distinct nationhood, based on the
possession of a unique “representational space” and also a specific
“representation” of it (Lefebvre, 38-39). While the homogenous, regular and
abstract North American urban grid, a result of the colonial mastery of space1,
repeats its pattern almost all over the continent, it is the wilderness that has
offered Canada a unique story and a source of imagery, distinct from both
Great Britain and the USA.
1
E.g. consider what Northrop Frye says of Canada’s urbanity: “there is little
adaptation to nature: in both architecture and arrangement, Canadian cities and
villages express an arrogant abstraction, the conquest of nature by an intelligence
that does not love it” (Frye, 224).
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Margaret Atwood’s Alternative Spaces:
“Wilderness Tips” and “Death by Landscape”
Equally canonical Margaret Atwood’s own fascination with the distinction
between the two alternatives, the urban(e) and the wild, is also pervasive, as
evident both from her early writing and much later work. For instance, in
Journals of Susanna Moodie (1970) as well as in the famous Surfacing (1972),
or theoretical Survival (1972), she elaborates upon the overwhelming, the
monstrous and the awesome in the wilderness, as well as the “exotic”,
epitomized in the image of the Indian. It is to the wilderness that a
contemporary city person of these texts comes and it is there that his/her
transformation occurs. A similar motif recurs in Atwood’s much more recent
collection of short stories, Wilderness Tips of 1992, where, for example, in
the title story as well as in “Death by Landscape”, we encounter urban dwellers
on a regular holiday detour to the wilderness: “up north”, in a family lodge
(“Wilderness Tips”) or a summer camp for children (“Death by Landscape”).
“Wilderness Tips” tells the reader of a day in Wacousta lodge, a cottage in
the wilderness that belongs to a white Torontonian family, consisting of three
sisters, Pamela, Prue and Portia, brother Roland, as well as youngest Portia’s
husband George, a Hungarian immigrant, and because of this, a contemporary
settler of sorts. Having left the city for a weekend, the family members play
out their pent up tensions and frustrations, caused by complicated relationships
within the family. “Death by Landscape” is the story of an aged woman,
Louis, who, having isolated herself in a Toronto condominium, watches her
collection of the Group of Seven paintings and remembers a childhood canoe
expedition, while in a summer camp in the wilderness, during which she lost
her best friend, Lucy.
In both short stories, there is a clearly established distinction between the
two “alternative” spaces: one (the city) for school, business, and relationships,
that is, “real life”, another (the wilderness) for holiday, an escape. However,
unlike in a traditional border narrative, the crossing of the boundary between
the two spaces is not a venture into the alien unknown. By contrast, bordercrossing seems to be an all too familiar process, something that has been
repeated over years, with always the same place as the destination. For
instance, as the protagonist of “Death by Landscape” says, “girls her age
whose parents could afford it were routinely packed off to such camps, which
bore a generic resemblance to one another” (Atwood 1992a, 103)2. In this
context, instead of an awesome and overpowering space, the wilderness
2
Emphasis K.A.
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Place and Memory in Canada: Global Perspectives
Lieu et Mémoire au Canada: Perspectives Globales
basically becomes a site of regression. This is marked, for instance, by the
characters’ relapse to such inurbane unindustrial pseudo natural activities as
chopping wood, paddling a canoe or making pottery and clothes. Similarly,
their resistance to motor boats, which epitomize technology, speaks of the
same regression. Prue says: “‘I think all those motorboat people should be
taken out and shot dead. At least the ones that go too fast.’ Prue herself
drives like a maniac, but only on land” (Atwood 1992b, 197-198).
Thus, the awesome, unpredictable wilderness can also be a space of passivity
and fixity, where any uncontrolled movement and intervention is forbidden.
The absence of movement inevitably implies the absence of change.
Consequently, as such, the wilderness becomes a space of stasis and stagnation
as well. Indeed, as Lois in “Death by Landscape” says of the children camps,
“she knows such camps still exist. […] they are one of few things that
haven’t changed much” (Atwood 1992a, 104). Or, as George’s outsider eye
in “Wilderness Tips” sees it, this is a space where any development is halted:
Prue, who in the city is the first with trends – the first white kitchen,
the first set of giant shoulder pads, the first leather pants suit have been
hers over the years – is here as resistant to change as the rest of them.
She wants everything on this peninsula to stay exactly the way it always
has been. And it does, though with a gradual decline into shabbiness
(Atwood 1992b, 197).
This impression is furthermore strengthened in the same short story with the
help of the image of the stuffed birds that decorate the lodge: “‘They are
hermetically sealed,’ says Prue. ‘You know: nothing goes in, nothing comes
out. Like nuns’” (Atwood 1992b, 197). With this image, however, fixity
acquires another dimension – that of the imposed order and the impossibility
of change. The glass border over the birds is invisible, but nevertheless
persistent and controlling. What it controls is a displaced fragment of
wilderness, epitomized in the image of a stuffed wild bird (a duck, a loon,
a grouse). This is the wilderness turned into an attraction to which one knows
the route, a safe place with a regular and familiar set of rules: a camp,
a summer lodge.
As such, familiarised, tamed, made habitable, in short, appropriated by the
white settler-intruder, the wild and unpredictable – live – element transforms
into an ordinary place in Michel de Certeau’s proposed sense, which sees
a place precisely as a form of imposed order:
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Margaret Atwood’s Alternative Spaces:
“Wilderness Tips” and “Death by Landscape”
A place (lieu) is the order (of whatever kind) in accord with which
elements are distributed in relationships of coexistence. It excludes
the possibility of two things being in the same location (place). The
law of the “proper” rules in the place: the elements taken into
consideration are beside one another, each situated in its own “proper”
and distinct location, a location it defines. A place is thus an
instantaneous configuration of positions. It implies an indication of
stability (De Certeau, 117).
Within such a place, space can “occur” only if any sort of act(ion) is allowed,
that is, any sort of intersection – relationship – among the otherwise rigidly
arranged elements (De Certeau, 117, 126)3. In other words, what would call
the immobile place to life and make it “occur” is practice – action and
movement, the rejection of the pervasive stagnation (De Certeau, 117).
Unpractised, it remains an arranged system, a map, a picture as well as a set
of rules that are taken for granted. However, any creative – or destructive for
that matter – movement is arrested in Atwood’s short stories. The characters
undertake no action whatsoever, but, instead, adjust to the orderly arrangement
in the ways they consider fit and convenient. Thus, for instance, the children
in “Death by Landscape” are assigned names of various wild animals and,
when embarking on a canoe trip, get their faces painted to resemble Native
people. In other words, they (are) put on masks to adapt to the space of the
wild, which is popularly still considered both animalistic and also “Indian.”
Similarly, George in “Wilderness Tips” “sometimes thinks Roland can change
color slightly to blend in with his backgrounds; unlike George himself, who
is doomed to stand out”, almost irrespective of the rules that govern this
place (Atwood 1992b, 196).
3
Space as relational has been discussed in much detail by e.g. human geographers
and social theorists. Many of them are strongly influenced by Henri Lefebvre’s
influential analysis of social space, which he conceptualises as a set of relations
among things and “everything that there is in space, everything that is produced
either by nature or by society, either through their co-operation or through their
conflicts. Everything: living beings, things, objects, works, signs and symbols”
(Lefebvre, 101). Taking up a similar line of argument, theorists of human geography,
for instance, Doreen Massey propose to consider space as taking the form of the
“simultaneous coexistence of social interrelations at all geographical scales” (Massey,
168). Place in this context refers to a specific use of a segment of space (Lefebvre 112, 16) and a particular unique configuration of social interrelations and interactions
at various levels within a given location (Massey 168-71). As such, similarly to de
Certeau’s definition, Lefebvrean place also implies a certain degree of order.
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Place and Memory in Canada: Global Perspectives
Lieu et Mémoire au Canada: Perspectives Globales
Actually, it is precisely George, as an outsider – he is a Hungarian immigrant
– and thus a successful invader-settler himself (seen exactly in this way by
Roland, the masculine protector-figure), who is eventually the only one to
resist the neat arrangement – order – of this place and to break its rules.
Earlier, he has continuously refused to make love to his sister-in-law and
lover Prue in this particular place, thus helping her unsettle the order:
She wanted him to make his usual rakish, violent, outlandish brand of
love to her on the reindeer moss and pine needles; she wanted to break
some family taboo. Sacrilege was what she had in mind: that was as
clear to him as if he’d read it. But George already had his plan of
attack worked out, so he put her off. He didn’t want to desecrate
Wacousta Lodge; he wanted to marry it (Atwood 1992b, 199).
George recognizes the particularity of the spatial order of Wacousta Lodge
and realizes that he needs to subject himself to its rules. However, in the
short story, he, having just reiterated to himself that here “he will perform no
violations”, (Atwood 1992b, 193), George nevertheless disturbs the stagnation
of the place by seducing the eldest sister, prude and dignified Pamela, who
after the death of their mother has incarnated stability and the order itself.
In this, Atwood plays with the ambivalent settler-invader or else, creatordestructor, rhetoric: apart from the alien invader George, the only other
character capable of evoking change and development in the family was the
great-grandfather. It was him who built the arrogant massive lodge in the
middle of the wilderness, thus appropriating and transforming it, and it is he
whose gaze from a portrait on a wall still controls the place that he himself
created. It is only him who had the power to transform the wilderness – or
transform at all. After him, everything here has been (preserved) the same.
None of his progeny has equalled him in this transformative power. Prue has
failed in her desire to desecrate the place; other sisters do not even think of
anything similar and only keep following the usual rituals. Their brother
Roland openly admits his failure:
He knows he is not a success, not by his great-grandfather’s standards.
The old man sneers at him every morning from that rosewood frame
in the washroom, while he is shaving. They both know the same thing:
if Roland were a success he’d be out pillaging, not counting the beans.
He’d have some gray, inoffensive, discontented man counting the beans
for him. A regiment of them. A regiment of men like himself
(Atwood1992b, 205-206).
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Margaret Atwood’s Alternative Spaces:
“Wilderness Tips” and “Death by Landscape”
The one who does have such a regiment is George with his “unorthodox
business practices” (Atwood 1992b, 194). Having come to Canada as a
refugee from Hungary in the late 1960s, he has basically appropriated as
much as he wanted:
He’d made his money quickly, and then he’d made more. It had been
much easier than he’d thought; it had been like spearing fish by
lamplight. These people were lax and trusting, and easily embarrassed
by a hint of their own intolerance or lack of hospitality to strangers.
They weren’t ready for him. He’d been as happy as a missionary among
the Hawaiians. […] Seize the moral ground, then grab what you can
get (Atwood 1992b, 201).
The parallel with missionaries and Hawaiians makes clear the colonial
implications that George’s persona bears. He has “invaded” a territory and
established his own (“unorthodox” business) rules. Likewise, he has intruded
into Wacousta Lodge and taken over: having seduced mother-figure Pamela
right there, he has seduced and disturbed the order of the place itself. Nothing
will ever be the same and this is precisely what drives his otherwise patient
and tolerant wife Portia to suicide – in the lake of Wacousta Lodge.
Similarly, in “Death by Landscape,” the children in the summer camp are
also controlled by the rules and order of that particular place. Moreover, this
applies not only to the territory of the camp, but also to the route that the
girls take on their canoe trip “into the wilderness”:
“You go on big water,” says Cappie. This is her idea – all their ideas –
of how Indians talk. “You go where no man has ever trod. You go
many moons.” This is not true. They are only going for a week, not
many moons. The canoe root is clearly marked, they have gone over it
on a map, and there are prepared campsites with names which are used
year after year. But when Cappie says this – and despite the way Lucy
rolls up her eyes – Lois can feel the water stretching out, with the
shores twisting away on either side, immense and a little frightening
(Atwood 1992a, 110).
The route that is mapped and studied – as well as used – beforehand still
pertains to the same appropriated and thus safe fragment of the wilderness.
Despite the “Indian” masks that the girls put on, they are still within their
familiar white spatiality on that canoe trip. However, the moment the
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Place and Memory in Canada: Global Perspectives
Lieu et Mémoire au Canada: Perspectives Globales
protagonist’s best friend Lucy, also an outsider from the USA, turns from a
pre-trodden path in the wilderness, where the group has stopped for a night,
she disappears without a trace and is never found. Its reputation (as a secure
place) is lost, this incident eventually destroys the whole camp.
Thus it is indeed as if the only place that poses no threat to the dominant
white-settler identity is one “under” an invisible glass jar, the place, which
is mastered and appropriated. Even the Group of Seven landscape paintings
that the protagonist Lois has in her apartment cannot fully capture, frame
and control it:
Because there aren’t any landscapes up there, not in the old, tidy
European sense, with a gentle hill, a curving river, a cottage, a mountain
in the background, a golden evening sky. Instead there’s a tangle, a
receding maze, in which you can become lost almost as soon as you
step off the path. There are no backgrounds in any of these paintings,
no vistas; only a great deal of foreground that goes back and back,
endlessly, involving you in its twists and turns of tree and branch and
rock. No matter how far back in you go, there will be more. And the
trees themselves are hardly trees; they are currents of energy, charged
with violent colour (Atwood 1992a, 121).
The rest of the wilderness is still an untamed and live space with its own
spatial practices and set of rules, totally irreverent of pseudo-adaptive masks
and strategies. This is a space that escapes the newcomer’s grasp and
comprehension, and as such can not be labelled or described in familiar terms:
“there aren’t any landscapes up there, not in the old, tidy European sense,”
says the protagonist. In other words, this is a space that is untranslatable. To
make sense of it, one has to subjugate it (or part of it) with a new spatial
order, that is, to impose a new set of rules. This would allow the wilderness
to become an extension of the urban spatial order – in the same way that
the settler colony itself emerged as an extension of the Empire, when
settlers “transplanted” a familiar spatiality in a new territory, irrespective
of the indigenous one. To conclude, as late as in the 1990s, the division
between the two spaces, the urban(e) and the wild is still persistent even in
white Canadian writing, as exemplified by Margaret Atwood’s work. This
representation of the wilderness as alien, ungraspable and incomprehensible
allows for further “exoticising” of it, and as such it continues to perform the
role of both an exciting alternative to the every day’s safe urbanity and as an
incessant source of national imagery.
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Margaret Atwood’s Alternative Spaces:
“Wilderness Tips” and “Death by Landscape”
Works Cited
Atwood, Margaret. The Journals of Susanna Moodie. Toronto: OUP, 1970.
--------. Surfacing. Don Mills: Paper Jacks, 1972.
--------. Survival. Toronto: Anansi, 1972.
--------. “Death by Landscape.” Wilderness Tips. Toronto: Seal Books, 1992a,
99-122.
--------. “Wilderness Tips.” Wilderness Tips. Toronto: Seal Books, 1992b,
189-216.
Bål, Mieke. Looking In: The Art of Viewing. Amsterdam: G+B Arts
International, 2001.
De Certeau, Michel. The Practice of Everyday Life. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1984.
Frye, Northrop. The Bush Garden: Essays on the Canadian Imagination.
Toronto: Anansi, 1971.
Gilbert, Helen and Joanne Tompkins. Post-Colonial Drama: Theory, Practice,
Politics. London: Routledge, 1996.
Lefebvre, Henri. The Production of Space. (1974). Oxford: Blackwell. 1991.
Massey, Doreen. Space, Place and Gender. Cambridge: Polity, 1994.
Said, Edward W. Orientalism. London: Chatto and Windus, 1978.
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